Decadence
by SaintsDivine
Summary: A man is haunted by a past tragedy and falls deep into substance abuse. Please R&R, I've got plenty more coming. Chapter 2 is up. Rated M for violence, drug use, sexual content, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** I do not own any legal stuff concerning the Silent Hill series, be it copyrights, locations, names, etc. This writing is for enjoyment and to hopefully develop my writing skills and broadcast them to people everywhere.

As such, this is my first ever attempt at a Silent Hill fan fiction, and my first fiction of any kind in almost two years. There are some discrepancies between this and the series itself, although they will eventually, if not immediately, be tied into the story. Reviews are greatly appreciated, as is **CONSTRUCTIVE** criticism. I realize that this first chapter doesn't have the trademark horror that Silent Hill fans know and love, but there will be plenty later on, I promise you. Anyways, go ahead and read and tell me what you think.

Enjoy.

* * *

"Jacob, give it back!" shouted the little boy as he desperately reached for his new ball. 

"Reach up and take it, Charlie," said Jacob to the shorter boy as he dangled the bright red ball just out of his reach. Other students that were watching snickered as the boy jumped helplessly in a futile attempt to reclaim his ball. The boy was panting with each effort; he was growing tired.

"J-Jacob, please–" cried Charlie as tears began to leak from his bright blue eyes and down his round, rosy cheeks. His blonde hair was disheveled and messy. Clearly, Jacob had been toying with Charlie for awhile.

Suddenly, Jacob cracked a wide grin across his freckled face, one that seemingly made his upper lip disappear under his slightly pointed nose. He raised the ball higher than ever. He looked down at Charlie, then towards a dumpster roughly fifty feet away.

"Maybe we could play a little game of fetch!" snarled Jacob, swinging his arm back and preparing to throw the ball.

As he brought the arm forward, a larger hand with long fingernails snatched the ball and ripped it from his hands.

"Mr. Mayweather, I do believe you will be giving Mr. Kinsman his ball back now," snapped the voice of an adult woman in her mid-thirties. Jacob looked timidly at his teacher.

"Of course, Ms. Higgs! I was _just_ about to do that," said Jacob quietly as Ms. Higgs handed the ball back to Charlie. She motioned Charlie away with her hand, then looked sternly at Jacob.

"If I hear of anymore bullying on your part, you will spend your afternoon in detention," said Ms. Higgs. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ms. Higgs," Jacob said with feigned sweetness. She turned and walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, Jacob scowled at Charlie, who was across the playground by this time. Charlie returned the stare with a weak shrug. He turned back to some of the other students.

"What're all of _you_ looking at?" he snarled. The students looked everywhere i but /i at Jacob. He hunched his shoulders.

"He won't get away with this," he muttered quietly to himself.

* * *

Later that day, after school…

* * *

Charlie was happily bouncing his red ball as he walked beside the busy street on his way home. The sun shone brightly, reflecting off the cars that whizzed past. Occasionally, he would miss and would have to quicken the pace to catch up with his ball. 

He was almost home when he heard an all-too-familiar voice behind him.

"Hey! I think you have something of mine," shouted Jacob, accompanied by two other boys. The other boys laughed as Charlie glowered.

"L-leave me alone, Jacob!" Charlie whined.

"L-leave me alone, Jacob!" Jacob mimicked as he drew closer to Charlie. The two boys laughed harder. Within moments, he was mere inches from him. With one lightning-quick motion, he snatched the red ball away from him.

"Give it!" cried Charlie. Jacob grinned and pushed him down.

"Let's make a little game out of this," said Jacob wickedly. He pointed at a location behind Charlie– a yard with a small white fence, green grass, and an oak tree.

Tied to the oak tree with a piece of rope was a vicious-looking pitbull.

"Go and get it!" He threw the ball as hard as he could. The ball soared over the fence, hit the tree, and rolled a few feet away from the dog. Charlie stood up shakily.

"I'm not going in there!" he said angrily. Jacob grabbed him by the shoulders and drew his face to within inches of his own.

"Go and get my ball, or I'm really gonna get mad," snarled Jacob. The two boys that were flanking him balled their hands into fists. Charlie swallowed hard, nodded quickly, and walked over to the fence. As he approached the fence, the dog began to growl.

The fence was only five and a half feet high, but it was still a little bit of a climb for an average third grade child, especially one as undersized as Charlie Kinsman. With visible effort, he gained a foothold, slowly hoisted himself up, and dropped down to the other side on all fours as Jacob and the other boys watched intently. The dog barked. Charlie jumped and looked back at the boys.

"Go on, go get it!" Jacob shouted with a smirk. He was enjoying this. The worried looks on the faces of the other two boys were signs that they didn't share in the fun anymore. They all walked toward the fence.

The dog began to bark more savagely as Charlie drew near. It was trying to run at him, but the rope was holding it in place. Saliva dripped from the animal's mouth. Its yellow eyes followed his every move.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he picked up the ball, coming within two feet of the dog's reach. The muscular dog was pulling harder than ever, trying to break itself loose. The rope was visibly straining from the force.

"I've got it!" Charlie yelled, holding the ball high in the air.

"Bring it back, then!" Jacob yelled from the fence.

As Charlie began to walk towards the fence, he heard a tearing noise. He looked back in horror at the dog, which was barking with each breath it took. The rope was breaking. He ran desperately to the fence and thrust the ball into Jacob's outstretched hand.

"P-please… you can have the ball! Just help me over–"

His words were interrupted by the snapping of the rope. With a snarl, the freed dog ran for Charlie.

Charlie screamed. He desperately tried to climb up the fence, but the dog reached him and latched onto his ankle with his teeth. Horrified, Jacob and the other boys grabbed his outstretched hands and pulled. His sweaty hands, however, slipped and let go of the boys' hands.

"CHARLIE!" Jacob yelled in terror.

"HELP ME!!" Charlie sobbed as the dog forced him to the ground and got on top of him. "PLEASE!!" He was crying and was struggling to get the dog off of him as it mauled his entire body as the other boys only stood and watched, frozen in place.

After a few minutes, Charlie stopped struggling. He was bleeding badly, and he had wounds all over his body. He didn't appear to be breathing.

"C-Charlie?" Jacob asked timidly as the dog barked at the other boys. There was no answer. "Charlie?!" He didn't move a muscle. "CHARLIE?!" Tears began to well up in Jacob's eyes. The other boys simply watched, the mouths agape. Jacob turned and ran from the yard, screaming desperately for help.

* * *

Charlie died the next day at Black River General Hospital's Intensive Care Unit. 

His funeral attracted almost seven hundred people from all over the Black River area. He was later buried under a small, undecorated gravestone in Holy Crossings Cemetery, also located in Black River, under the watchful eyes of his grieving mother.

There was nobody home when the attack happened, and therefore, nobody ever placed responsibility for Charlie's death on Jacob or the other two boys. The police ruled the mauling a tragic accident, finally deciding that he had climbed the fence to retrieve a ball that was accidentally thrown over there, and had the dog put to sleep. The owner avoided charges, paid a modest fine, and the case was closed.

That happened twenty years ago, but the guilt still remained with Jacob Mayweather, preventing him from forgiving himself. He slipped into deep alcoholism, drug abuse, and sexual activity in a fruitless attempt to lighten the burden– the guilt– that he carried.

This is his story.

* * *

**SILENT HILL: DECADENCE**

Jacob bolted upright in his bed. He was panting and dripping with sweat. With tired eyes, he looked through the dark at the bright numbers illuminating on his bedside table.

5:00 AM.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself before burying his face in his hands. He had had the dream again. Had heard those horrible cries and the snarls of that dog. Had seen that poor boy bleed to death. Had seen his blonde-haired mother weep over a dark brown coffin. With a shudder, he turned on the lamp that was sitting on the bed stand.

There was a tired, womanly groan next to him. He turned and squinted through the darkness as a woman with dark hair slowly sat up in bed. With a yawn, she looked over at him.

"You alright? You were tossing and turning."

"I'm fine… but I need to be at work in a couple hours. You need to leave soon."

"Alright, I'm going… You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah… I'm sure." With these words, the woman gently touched his unshaven face and climbed out of the bed, revealing her nude body. Jacob looked downward in embarrassment, though he wasn't sure why. This was, after all, the very same woman that he had slept with for the last month and a half. Sensing his discomfort, she allowed herself a small smile as she pulled on a bathrobe that had been hanging in his closet before walking out of the room.

When she left the room, Jacob pulled himself out of the bed and wandered over to the open closet. He pulled down a white button-up shirt and some jeans. He dressed himself, turned off the lamp, and walked into the living room of his apartment. The lights were on as the woman dressed herself. Sensing Jacob's presence, she looked up at him and frowned.

"You don't look too good, Jake," she said softly. "Maybe you should take the day off."

"I can't just call off because of a rough night, Jessica," Jacob replied, shaking his head. "I'll be fine after I get something to drink and wake up a little bit."

"If you say so." Jessica walked towards another door. "I'm going to the bathroom, and then I'll be out of here."

"No rush, Jess," Jacob said, sensing that he may have hurt her feelings a little bit. Jessica opened the door and disappeared into the bathroom. He sighed to himself as he walked over to the kitchen.

He opened a cupboard door and pulled out a glass. Then, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a half-full carton of orange juice. He poured some in his glass and put the carton away. Then, temptation struck. He glanced over at the bathroom door to make sure Jessica was still in there. He opened another cupboard, reached for the top shelf, and pulled down an unmarked bottle of pills. He popped the lid off, dumped five or six into his hand, and threw them into his mouth, washing them down with the juice. He quickly replaced the lid on the bottle, put it back, and shut the door as the bathroom door swung open.

"I'm gonna leave now," Jessica said. "Same time tonight?"

"Y-yeah," Jacob replied. "Same time tonight." Jessica walked over to the door, slipped her shoes on, and opened it. Then she glanced back at Jacob.

"I love you."

Jacob nodded. Without another word, she walked out the door, leaving it open. He was growing progressively tired and woozy. Feeling too tired to even stand, he dragged himself to an overstuffed chair and sat down. It was so warm, so comfortable, that he could have slept there and never woke up again.

"Maybe a few more minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt…"

Everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

-1Author's note: Well, I took a long look at what I had written before and where I planned on going with this story. This is completely unintentional (I only noticed it after I completed Chapter 1), but I've been meshing together concepts from several Silent Hill stories. I swear that I'm not trying to plagiarize Konami's stories by substituting my own characters in, but the stories are quite similar in some parts.

Anyways, read and review and tell me what you think. Reviews are always compensated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill characters, copyrights, locations, etc. That all belongs to Konami, and I'm not trying to make money off of this.

* * *

**C H A P T E R 2**

A faint buzzing noise. The quiet, melodious trickle of water. A foul smell. Jacob's eyes snapped open.

"What the hell…" Jacob wondered aloud. He was sprawled out on his back. Lights were hanging above him. He turned his head from side to side to get a good look at where he was.

The brick walls were rotted and spotted with black mold, and several bricks were either missing or had rotted away. The floor he was lying on was filthy yellow tile. Sinks that were black with filth were attached to a wall on his left, as were cracked, dirty mirrors that hung above them. Urinals and stalls also lined the left wall. To his right, there was only a wall that was about a foot away from him, but it had the same rotted bricks and black mold.

A section of the wall was missing, revealing the leaky pipe work beneath. Lifting his arm, he grabbed on to a sturdy-looking pipe to pull himself up. With a grunt, he began to pull.

The pipe, however sturdy it was, was not well-connected to the rest of the system. It dislodged from the wall, and with a gasp, Jacob fell back into his original position with the three-foot pipe clutched in his hand.

"Ow."

With a Herculean effort, he pulled himself to his feet. Now, he began to take the full scene into perspective. He was in a bathroom, a rather filthy and disgusting one. In front of him, there was a simple wooden door with a metal handle. It appeared that the black mold had barely begun to encroach upon it. He turned around.

Beyond him was a stretch of stalls and urinals. At the end of this was a large doorway that probably led to a shower. With the pipe clutched in his hand, he slowly walked toward the shower.

As he drew closer, the foul smell that permeated the bathroom grew stronger. He wanted to gag. It smelled worse than anything he had ever encountered.

"Heh… musta been one helluva shit."

When he was only a few feet from the doorway, he stopped cold.

The next room was definitely a shower. There were showerheads, white walls, small floor tiles, and drains. But there wasn't water on the floor.

Blood was smattered all over the tiles of the bathroom.

Jacob took a deep breath. He immediately regretted it as he started to gag on the rotten air. Composing himself, he gripped the pipe tightly. Raising it at ready, he crept up to the doorway. Reluctantly, he took a quick look around the corner. Immediately, he threw his free hand over his mouth and wished he hadn't looked, because it had been what he expected.

Lying on the floor was a bloated, rotting corpse.

Jacob slowly walked into the shower. The blood was dried, but he still did his best to avoid stepping into it as he approached the body.

Its skin was a diseased, green color. The body had decomposed some, but Jacob could tell that it was a male. He was lying on his back. Stab wounds and slash marks covered his body.

The face was undoubtedly the worst part. What was left of the man's eyes was hanging loose from the sockets, and the nose was turned at an awkward angle. Black spots of rot dotted the man's face. His mouth was open, revealing a ghastly sight– his tongue had been forcefully cut out, as was evidenced by cut marks all over his face and lips.

But upon closer inspection, Jacob caught sight of something clenched in the man's fist– a piece of paper. Using the pipe, he attempted to pry the fingers loose, but it was no use. He didn't want to touch the corpse, but for some odd reason, he felt as though he didn't have a choice. Dropping to his knees, he reluctantly took hold of the man's fist and tried to pry the fingers loose himself. He nearly vomited as pieces of the man's skin slid off and adhered themselves to Jacob's hands.

After what seemed like an eternity of work, he managed to open the clenched fist. He wiped the rotting skin onto the wall. He bent down and picked up the paper. With shaking hands, he opened the small note and read aloud to himself.

"Don't tell anyone."

A chill raced up his spine. Those were words that constantly rang in his ears, raced through his mind. Those words were his own.

"Don't tell anyone. Don't tell anyone. Don't tell anyone…"

Over and over he read the note. He was beginning to feel dizzy. The room was spinning.

_Don't tell anyone…_

Now the words penetrated his mind.

_Don't tell anyone…_

Childish laughter accompanied the voice.

"SHUT UP!" Jacob yelled as he dropped the note. His world was still spinning. He wanted to sit down.

_Don't tell anyone…_

"STOP!"

Jacob ground his teeth together. With one hand still clenching the pipe, he ran the other one through his hair, grabbed as much as he could, and started pulling.

_Don't tell anyone…_

The pain did nothing to alleviate his current condition. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all. Jacob started to scream.

_Don't tell anyone…_

His wails continued as he tried to drown out the sounds of his own mind. The room was spinning faster than ever. The man stirred. With a weak groan out of his tongue-less mouth, he rose to his feet.

Jacob wanted to run, but couldn't. His legs wouldn't cooperate. He felt weak. Without thinking, he raised the pipe above his head and brought it down on the rotted skull of the corpse. With a sickening thump, the pipe made contact with the head and left a large dent. The corpse, undeterred by this new development, continued his advance.

With another powerful swing, Jacob split the corpse's head down the middle. Rotten, putrid blood sprayed from the wound. Bits of bone and what was left of the brain and nerves in the head ejected from the skull. The man stood for another moment, fell to his knees, and collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor.

The spinning slowed and eventually stopped. The voice grew fainter and fainter until it could no longer be heard. The laughter also grew silent. Jacob looked down at the corpse and sighed.

"What the _fuck_ is this place?"

Jacob slowly stepped away from the body and walked toward the mirrors. He looked through the filth and grime at his reflection.

Blood stained his shirt. Flecks of blood were also on his face. With one of the few remaining clean parts of his sleeve, he wiped the blood from his face.

He was feeling uneasy. It was now oppressively quiet.

Too quiet. The hairs on his neck stood up, and goose bumps began to form on his arms. With a shiver, he turned away from the mirrors.

He was not alone. He could feel it.

He quickly walked over to the door. As he looked back, he could have sworn that he saw the corpse twitch, possibly even shift its weight. He took a deep breath, this time without gagging. The smell was not as strong over by the door, and Jacob had grown used to it anyway.

With another shudder, he gripped the door handle, pulled the door open, and stepped into the world outside.


End file.
